Bright Ideas
by catlover5040
Summary: How many detectives does it take to change a lightbulb? Shameless, pointless fluff because I'm in the mood. LASSIET


**I know, I know, I rarely write fluff. But I felt like it, so I hope you enjoy this adorable, slightly pointless piece of writing. This takes place in a magical universe where Marlowe doesn't exist and Shules doesn't exist and bunnies frolic through fields of clover.**

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"Carlton, don't kill yourself," Juliet called reproachfully, watching him wobble treacherously on the ancient, squeaky ladder.

"I don't intend to," he said matter-of-factly, without looking down at her. He was in his shirtsleeves, his tie undone and hung around his neck. "In fact, I intend to do the exact opposite of that."

"Which is?" Juliet brushed a wayward strand of hair out of her face.

Carlton pointed to the glass apparatus above his head. "Change this potentially defective lightbulb that could explode and kill us both."

Juliet laughed. "I think that would be escalating circumstances a little bit."

"I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation, Juliet," he said seriously. "This lightbulb isn't just dead. It's been flickering on-and-off, non-stop, which means there's something wrong with the wires and yes, it could potentially explode and kill us both. So please proceed to not mock me while I save both of our lives."

She smirked. "No-one's stopping you, Superman. Go ahead."

"I will," he said firmly, reaching up to unscrew the lightbulb. He twisted his hand around for a few minutes, to no avail.

"What, is the lightbulb made out of kryptonite?" Juliet teased.

"It's stuck," Carlton said calmly. "Nothing I can't overcome."

But apparently it was, because no matter how he struggled with the frustrating little piece of glass it wouldn't budge.

"Let me try," Juliet suggested quickly, ready to take over the ladder.

"No." Carlton shook his head. "I can do this, Juliet. It's my job. Man of the house." He straightened up and took a swing at the lightbulb with his fist. He missed and succeeded only in falling off backwards.

"Carlton!" Juliet was at his side at once, wincing as a bubble of obscenities came floating up in her direction.

"Stupid lightbulb" was the cleanest bit of dialogue that could be made out from him. She helped him to his feet, still wincing and swearing.

"To be fair," she said, a little bit chastisingly, "it was a bit of a dumb idea to punch it."

"Dumb thing had it coming," he muttered, straightening up in a failed attempt to look dignified again.

"You okay?" she put a hand on his back and looked up at him concernedly. "Don't have to rush Superman to the ER in the middle of a lightbulb job, do we?"

"Of course not." He managed a smile, which was really more of a grimace. "I'm gonna get right back on that horse and change the freaking lightbulb, Juliet."

"I don't think so." She came square in front of him and stood up on her toes so they were faced to face. "Because if Superman's in the ICU tonight because he broke his back, then he can't make dinner. And Superwoman thinks it's his turn."

"What are we going to do about the potentially explosive lightbulb, then, Superwoman?" he teased, wrapping her arms around her waist. She put her arms up around his neck and was right there, beaming in his face. "Or are you Wonder Woman now? Or Batgirl?"

"Hmm." She rocked back, considering her options. "I think I'm the Black Widow right now. So you better hold off, Superman, because I'm taking a shot at that lightbulb."

"Why don't I take a shot?" he reached for his pistol, hooked into his belt at his side. "See, if I aim right at the-"

"Don't you even," she warned. "If you're worried about exploding lightbulbs, keep your

weapon in the holster."

Before he could protest, she strode towards the ladder and took a step up. "You just watch Superwoman rock this lightbulb job," she called to him. He rolled his eyes.

"Knock yourself out," he said, leaning against the wall, and then corrected himself. "Uh, not literally, please. That would be really uncool. I don't want to have to take you to the ER either."

"Don't worry about a thing," she said confidently, climbing up the ladder. It wobbled and she gasped a bit, holding her arms out to stabilize herself. He was at her side instantly, ready to catch her when she fell.

"I'm fine," she said calmly, but he wasn't buying it. He put his arms around her legs and held her in place.

"Not letting you fall," he said firmly. "We'll do it together. Teamwork."  
She laughed a little and reached up. "Okay. Doing this." She reached up for the frustrating little contraption and-

"How the hell?" Carlton said incredulously. "I swear, that thing was cemented in-"

"Apparently not, Superman." She tossed it down to him. He caught it easily. "Hand me the new one, will you?"

"I still don't see how you could do it when I couldn't," he huffed, crouching down to pick up the new one.

"Don't be too hard on yourself," she teased. "We all have our areas of strength. Yours just happens to be changing into a tight leotard inside a phone booth."

He made an unintelligible annoyed sound and handed her the lightbulb. She beamed down at him and reached up to put it back in.

"You can stop bragging," he said loudly, and she laughed.

"Didn't say anything, sweetheart," she giggled, watching her handwork as she completed the mundane and apparently difficult task. "There we are. No threat of explosion; functioning light fixture. Shall we celebrate with dinner?"

"Let's get you off that ladder alive first," Carlton advised, and she started climbing down with him waiting at the edge. She stumbled a little bit and fell into his arms, and he kissed her before she could say anything else.

"Let's go save the day, big guy," she murmured, her lips right on his.

"You already did," he whispered, and she kissed him back.

She pulled away and grinned at him. "But there's more things to be done. Days to be saved, lightbulbs to be changed. And, more importantly, bank accounts to break. Namely yours. So what say we go find a nice restaurant to spend that money at, eh?"

"Objection," he said, looking into her eyes. "How about we make that your bank account?"

"Overruled," she murmured, leaning her head against his chest. "It's one in the same, anyway."

"S'pose you're right, at the end of the day," he muttered.

"But I always am, darling," she said, and grinned at him again. "C'mon. Let's go fly away and save the day somewhere."

"You bet we will." He grinned back and they ran down the stairs together.


End file.
